📸 Photograph of a Stranger — Short Story

It began with a mistake.
Or maybe… fate.

1. The Camera in the Taxi

Aditi had barely stepped out of the taxi when she noticed something on the seat—a black DSLR camera, old but beautifully kept. She picked it up, hoping the driver would return. He drove away.

She sighed. Fine. I’ll find the owner.

Curiosity tugged at her fingers.
She switched on the camera.

And froze.

Photo after photo—
malls, streets, cafés, bus stands…
all showed the same girl.

Always from far away.
Always unposed.
Always unaware.

Creepy.

But when she reached the last picture—
her breath hitched.

Because the final photograph…

was of her.
Taken yesterday.
At the exact moment she had stepped out of a bookstore—smiling at something on her phone.

A cold shiver crawled down her spine.

Who took this?
Why me?
Am I being followed?

She checked the camera settings.
A name flashed on the screen:

“A.R. – Photography.”

---

2. The Photographer

She traced the watermark online and found a small studio on a quiet street.
Her heart hammered with each step.

When she pushed open the door, she expected a stalker—
a creepy man with a smirk, someone dangerous.

Instead, she saw Aditya.

A man in his late twenties.
Tall, tired eyes.
Camera strap around his neck.
And an expression of surprise when he saw the DSLR in her hands.

“You… found my camera.”

Not a hint of guilt.
Just quiet relief.

Aditi didn’t soften.

“You took my picture,” she said bluntly.
“Why?”

His eyes flickered—pain, regret, something wounded.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.
“I shouldn’t have.”

She waited, arms crossed.

He motioned toward his studio wall—
black-and-white portraits, full of depth and ache.

“I’m a photographer. I capture emotions I can’t say.”
His voice was steady, but his fingers trembled.
“I lost someone. Someone I… couldn’t save.”

Aditi’s anger faded slightly.

He continued, “Since then, I photograph strangers who carry the same emotions she did. Sadness. Hope. Fear. Healing.”
Then he looked at her.
“Yesterday… you were standing outside the bookstore. You smiled. But your eyes— they looked like they were holding back an entire storm.”

Aditi blinked.

“No. You’re making it sound poetic. You followed me.”

“I didn’t,” he said quietly.
“I saw you once. Pure coincidence. And your expression… reminded me of something I’ve been trying to capture for years—
the moment someone decides to move on.”

His honesty disarmed her.

---

3. Why Her?

She finally asked, more gently,
“But… why me?”

Aditya looked down at his hands.

“Because you looked like you were learning to live again. And I wanted to remember that feeling.”

His voice cracked.
“And I didn’t want to lose another moment I didn’t understand.”

Aditi’s heart softened—unexpectedly, unwillingly.

She returned the camera.

“You should ask before taking someone’s picture,” she said.

“I know.”
A quiet pause.
“Can I… take one now? Properly? With permission?”

She hesitated.

Outside, soft evening light filtered through the curtains.
Aditya lifted his camera—not as a stalker, but as a man who saw things deeply, painfully, beautifully.

Aditi exhaled.

“…Okay.”

He clicked.
Just one shot.

A genuine smile this time—hers.
A tiny one, shy, uncertain.
But real.

Aditya looked at the screen, and something in him melted.

“She’s not a stranger anymore,” he whispered.

And Aditi felt something unfamiliar bloom inside her chest…

A beginning.